Beneath This Pillow
by ThothAuthor
Summary: A little smut...because despite the critics I enjoyed the movie. And I liked this particular "pillow" scene, but thought it could use some more action. Hope you enjoy and little Sherlock/Irene time ;


The world came into focus. His eyes adjusted slowly to the reflected light in the room. Of course, what room that was he could not quite remember. Familiar, to be sure, but how and why he was not in his Baker Street flat was unclear…..

Then it came back to him in a flash. Irene. The woman was insufferable sometimes. He was naturally cautious and skeptical of all others. He never trusted anyone, apart from Watson. He thought he was even more wary when she was involved, that he was more attuned than anyone to her little deceptions. And yet each time he seemed to fall for her simplest tricks. The worst of it was, this time he wanted to help her. The thought that she might be too caught up in this dark business to turn back was terrifying in a way he could not define. Something in the pit of him recoiled at the thought, his chest tightened and his stomach soured when he considered the harm she might come to in this case. He was truly afraid for her.

His fear had made him sloppy, he chided himself. Now that his senses had mostly returned, he assessed the situation. Still in their old room in the St. Ermins, though some of the furniture had been rearranged since his last real stay here. Restrained to the headboard of the luxurious bed with simple, American handcuffs. His hands were far enough apart that they could not touch, but close enough that he would not be able to leverage his weight to break the links in the cuffs. Mid-morning light stole around the curtains, so he had only been out for an hour or perhaps a bit more. His head pained him, but not in a crippling way. She had used something effective that was both tasteless and odorless in the wine. He would have to ask her next time they met. Next time……

A noise came from the adjoining sitting room. He was startled, and all his senses trained on the door to the side of his bed. The door was cracked just a bit, and he saw movement in the small distance beyond. Someone approached the door, quietly. They were light, wearing no shoes, a sweep of fabric against the carpets. And then he smelled a distinctive Parisian perfume.

"I was worried that you had taken too much, so I stayed" her voice came from the doorway, and when he looked up he saw her lounging in her silken robe against the frame of the door.

Only then did he realize that he was entirely naked.

"How considerate of you," he replied, sarcasm tingeing his tone. He shifted a little on the comfortable bedding.

"I warned you to let it breathe." She smiled warmly at him, as if a fond memory crept into her mind at the same time. "But you never listen."

He tried to turn towards her, but was thwarted by the restraints. "It is you who will not listen. This is no laughing matter, Irene. You are in danger….."

"Do not overexcite yourself, or you will do yourself more harm." She cut him off and approached the bed. Her eyes wandered briefly over his body but returned to his face. He noted that the smile reached her eyes now, and made them sparkle a little bluer. She perched herself on the edge of the bed, not far from his bare waist.

"I am far from excited. What I am is worried. You need to leave, immediately. Get out of London before this gets even more out of hand. And it is already out of your hands, I assure you." He was breathing quickly by the end, his fear making the matter even more urgent.

"I can take care of myself, as you well know. And as to leaving, why would I do that when I finally have you just where I want you." The smile had never left her face, and she leaned across his chest to touch her hand to his cheek. "Are you certain that my departure is what you really want?"

"I want you safe." He admitted, but his voice cracked a little as her hand slowly trailed from his cheek to his chest. "There is no time to waste; you need to get away from this case."

"I do not intend to waste any time, Sherlock. And I have never been safer than with you in your current position."

"This is not funny, Irene" he replied, all seriousness. Her hand had ventured lower as they spoke, and her other hand began to loosen the knot on her robe.

"I am not laughing" the smile on her face disappeared quickly. She stilled for a moment, not moving an inch, but probing his face with her eyes. Then suddenly she leaned in and kissed him full on the mouth.

He gasped a little, but could do nothing but allow the action. In another moment he gave in, and kissed her back. He parted his lips to allow her entry and let his tongue tangle with hers. Her scent was all around him now, and he could not escape even if that was what he wanted. Her lips were passionate against his, and she moved lithely to straddle his body. The loose silk of her robe now draped across him too. Forgetting about his situation, he tried to move his hand to grasp a handful of her hair or reach beneath the silk to find her skin. His hand jerked painfully against his restraint, and made a noticeable clanging.

She parted their lips and sat upright on him. The change in angle brought her pelvis to his, and her concentrated weight there made him groan. He opened his eyes to look at her. He tried to look stern, but her tousled curls and swollen lips made it more than difficult to keep up his appearances. She did not have a stitch of undergarment on beneath the robe, which now barely clung to her lovely frame and exposed the entirety of her left shoulder and breast. He was certainly excited now, but for the wrong reason, and his face must have revealed just how he felt.

"Irene, stop. You do not know what you have gotten into." It sounded like an entendre, and he was sure she would take it as such. But he was afraid, for both of them now. After this, if this indeed happened again, losing her would be unbearable. It would break him.

She did not smile, and she showed almost no emotion. But a hint of genuine fear flickered on her face. She whispered breathlessly, "I know exactly what I have gotten myself into, my dear."

With that, she leaned forward and kissed him again. Her mouth was more fervent this time, and she pressed her whole body against the length of his. He could feel the soft curve of her body crash into the hard planes of his own. Despite his clearly subordinate position in this affair, he felt that she was the vulnerable one. She could not protect herself against the forces with which she was now entangled, and he was perhaps the only one in the world who knew that. Their kisses continued, and she deftly moved a hand between them to tease him to his full potential.

After just a few moments of indulging in the experience of her soft and perfect fingers on his most sensitive skin, he broke their kiss. He pressed his lips close to her ear and whispered desperately, "Don't Irene. Please…"

She did not heed him. Instead she pushed up against him and aligned her body perpendicular to his once more. Except that this time, she positioned his full organ to her warmest entrance.

"Don't what" she asked him flatly. Her face was glorious now, hovering far above him.

"You know you are in danger. You are in over your head. Let me help….." but he trailed off into a gasp and a moan. His eyes rolled back into his head slightly. She forced herself down and claimed him for her own. She continued her movements at a maddeningly steady pace. Pulling away until she almost released him, she then slowly let her weight bring her back towards him. A few minutes of this and he was all but ready to shred his hands to escape from his restraints.

"Release me, Irene." She laughed aloud, a short mirthless laugh. "Just one hand. I must touch you, feel you. I beg you….please…."

She rounded her hips, which ended his words and elicited a pitiful groan from him.

"I am many things, Sherlock, but I'm not a fool. You can feel me perfectly from that position." He opened his eyes, which he was not aware that he had closed, and took in her beautiful countenance. He gasped when she moved her hips forcefully again, but did not let her break his gaze. After a few more moments of his scrutiny, she faltered a little. She leaned forward, changing their angle again and almost undoing him.

She brought her face close to his, without kissing him, and reached up to twine her fingers in his useless, dangling hand. She looked at his lips as she whispered, "I will bring you our release, if you'll let me."

A small sound, like that of a wounded animal escaped his lips. Their eyes met and she pushed herself into him entirely, so that the base of their bodies met. With that she stopped her movements and gazed into his eyes.

"Say I've bested you" she ordered, in a soft but demanding voice. He did not respond.

She tensed one of her internal muscles and forced him to gasp. "You know you have." His voice was strained and breathless.

"Say it" she tensed again. This time her voice had a hint of a tease in it.

And his words came tumbling out, "You've bested me, Irene, more than once. And I am yours."

She was caught off guard by his full admission, and her face revealed her shock. He strengthened his grip on her hand, which was still entwined with his, and levered his weight with the help of the bed's headboard. Her eyes widened as he forced himself still deeper into her body, despite his impaired position. He kept a firm, almost painful grip on her hand, which restrained her just enough that he could repeat the motion.

Now he had her close as well. She brought her other hand up to meet his, so that their bodies were equally splayed out across the bed. She gripped the headboard near to where his hands were cuffed, and she let both of his hands cover hers. They moved together now, as one body, spurring each other on to the natural conclusion.

"Stay with me" he said suddenly, not allowing his words affect his rhythm. Her face fell, but she gave her head a single, silent shake.

"Come with me" she whispered, her emotion did not stop her body from continuing its course.

"I can't, Irene. I….oh….." He trailed off. She had combined an inner tightening with an outward rotation of her hips, and the blend pushed him over the edge. Not to be out done, he levered himself a bit painfully against the bed and bucked his hips into her. She cried out in pleasure and threw her head back. He turned his face, and sank his teeth into whatever part of her he could reach, which happened to be the underside of her forearm. With a heaving gasp she collapsed on top him, and he turned again to seal his lips over the base of her neck. It was his turn to rotate his hips, which sent her body shuddering over his again. She called out wordlessly, and pushed herself harder against him. He came again, sputtering into her, and was spent as she let her full weight settle over him.

Her mass of hair covered his face, and her body lay limply over his. Her breathing was slowly returning to normal, and he slowly felt his heart return to a normal rhythm. She slid down a little, untangling her hands from his bound ones, and lay her head on his chest. She didn't meet his face.

"Where does this leave us" she whispered after a few long minutes of laying on him.

"I don't know," he admitted. She sighed, helplessly.

After a few more minutes, she moved away without looking at him. He felt the loss of her warmth in his bones. She sat at the edge of the bed and tightened the robe around her without tying it. Her gaze fell into the space of the empty room.

"You are in danger, my love. You must believe me." She flinched at his use of the endearment.

"I know." She replied, again helpless.

"I can help you. Protect you even, if only…" he began.

But she cut him off before he could get too far, "No. You cannot save me this time, Sherlock. Not from this." She paused, then finally turned to look him in the face. "Not from myself." A rueful smile spread over her face.

"Don't do this, Irene. You don't have to do this."

Her smile turned crooked and her eyes sparkled a bit. "Yes I did. And I do have to do just this." From the pocket of her robe she produced the tiny key to his handcuffs. Her eyes sparkled, but not in the manner they had before.

***

The next thing he heard was the front door to the room open, and heavy-shoed footsteps approach. The maid appeared and screamed.

"Madame, do not be alarmed. Beneath this pillow lies the key to my release…."


End file.
